


Vita Dolce (Moderato)

by zuzuzuuu



Category: QCYN, UNINE (Band), 青春有你
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, except that knowing me - not really a mafia au, happy birthday xia hanyu, other characters not mentioned in tags, rating may go up for violence, spoilers in tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzuzuuu/pseuds/zuzuzuuu
Summary: Xia Hanyu grits his teeth and stumbles forward.Poco a poco, the piano teacher says in his memory, scribbling away on the pencil-drowned sheet.And your hands! No, no, that's all wrong.To hell with wrong,Hanyu thinks, gripping the railing of the stairs leading downward. His shoulder is beginning to ache, though the colour of his shirt means that the blood isn't noticeably different from the rest of the rain-wet areas.Haven't got much of a choice, do I?The light ofSiberian's sign washes his already-soaked feet. Time to gamble.





	Vita Dolce (Moderato)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Xia Hanyu! And so I present the first and currently only chapter of a work that has no relation whatsoever to his birthday. (Take heart - it has a timeline)

The storm fights on, wildly thrashing a lightning bolt that lights up the dark street above for a short-lived moment. Then the disquieting warning of thunder, nagging at Wenhan even as he struggles to adjust the microphone on its stand in front of him.

 _Bang._ The door to the bar slams open - no easy feat, being heavy with the weight of secrets and rain - and swings back slowly. Backlighted by neon lights, the figure stands for a moment in silence, at the foot of the stairs.

“Yes?” Wenhan says. He pauses, fingers lingering on the long stem of the stand. “We’re not open yet.”

There is no answer. The person takes a step forward into the warm light of the bar, clutching the bar stool on his right tightly. He’s drenched. His wet fringe obscures his eyes, so all Wenhan can make out is the stranger’s mouth drawing in ragged breath, short exhales forming clouds above the shirt plastered to him like a second skin.

“Sir,” Wenxuan tries. He discreetly reaches into the vest of his bartender uniform, coming out from behind the bar. “We’re closed. Do you -”

“Wenxuan, close the door,” Wenhan says, abandoning the stage and throwing Chunyang a meaningful glance. “Sir. Can you hear me?” He steps forward quickly, grabbing hold of the stranger’s arm. The hold is returned. “I’m going to call an -”

“No,” the person rasps. His voice is tight, but his eyes are frighteningly bright from behind the dripping hair. “No ambulance.” His grasp is equally tight, knuckles white.

Wenhan’s eyes slide to his left leg, beginning to shake. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” the stranger says, collapsing into the couch that Wenhan has led him to, which Chunyang has already laid with sheets. He lies straight without so much as a _thank you_ , feet facing the door. “Isn’t this _North East_?”

Wenhan smiles, sharp. “Don’t push it. The sign clearly says _Siberian Tiger_ , lone wolf.”

The other person doesn’t respond, shoving his hair out of his face with one backward sweep. Ah. _Wolf_ was right.

“I’ve already called Dr. Zhou,” Chunyang tells Wenhan, handing him the bar’s first aid kit and a towel on top of a set of spare uniform. Observant and efficient, as always. He ruffles Chunyang’s hair in thanks, jerking his chin at the floor of the entrance when he makes eye contact with Wenxuan. The youngest sighs and goes to get the mop.

“Stay still,” Wenhan says, and rips the lower part of the dark dress pants open. The person on the sofa hisses.

“Not very useful for moving around,” Wenhan observes.

“Was on sale,” the person says through gritted teeth, fists clenching and relaxing in turns as Wenhan works quickly to stop the blood flowing down his shin.

He does his best, but his knowledge is only from first-hand experience being patched up himself. “That'll hold for long enough,” Wenhan tells him. He dusts off his knees facing away from the wound. “Your shoulder?”

The unexpected visitor dripping light red rain onto his sheets begins unbuttoning his dark green shirt without a word. He looks up at Wenhan when he reaches the last button, and shifts his gaze to the other two Hu.

“Did the doctor say how long he'd take?” Wenhan asks, wrapping an arm around Chunyang as he walks them both to the back room. Wenxuan hesitates, hefting the ice pick in his hands. He reluctantly puts it down again at the small shake of Wenhan's head.

“Ten minutes,” Chunyang says as he pushes his glasses upward. His other hand rests on Wenxuan’s back. Wenhan gives a non-committal _hm_ , glancing backward over his shoulder.

Creamy white skin, revealed as the almost velvet-dark shirt is peeled away. The slender, narrow waist twists as its owner turns to pull an arm out, and - there, a flash of a tattoo, the motion aborted with a grimace. Must be more painful than he lets on. Wenhan looks at the large clock above the entrance, right before he can be caught staring at the way the stranger moves almost sinuously despite being injured, body slick with rain and wet and blood.

-

Zhou Shiyuan nods at Hu Wenxuan polishing the glasses and strides to where the unknown patient is lying down, eyes closed and face pale.

“I’ve told you so many times,” he says, snapping on his gloves and frowning at the bullet wound. “I’m a vet, not a surgeon.” The eyes crack open. Their assessing gaze would have made anyone’s hair stand on end, but Shiyuan has had the unfortunate honour of meeting Li Wenhan before this. He merely continues taking out his tools.

“A very good vet,” Wenhan says from somewhere behind him. He’s not sure if this is meant to reassure him, or the person about to receive a shot of local anaesthetic. “And anyway, this is a wolf.”

 _Interesting_ , Shiyuan thinks. “You let a wolf into your house?” His hands don’t stop, cleaning away rain and dirt and who knows what else.

“We could use a pet dog,” Wenhan says. The person they’re talking about as if he’s not right in front of them twitches at that.

“This might hurt a little,” Shiyuan tells him, and before he can respond, dives right into it.

-

It is very successful, all things considered, even if the patient snarled and would have nearly clawed the doctor’s shirt off, if it weren’t for Wenhan pressing him down and continuously talking softly in his ear while Shiyuan stitched him up. Leg _and_ shoulder.

“Well, I’d hate to interrupt, but,” Shiyuan says. He closes his kit, not-watching Wenhan, who is blatantly watching his latest person-of-interest dress himself with some difficulty. “My payment…?”

Wenhan waves a hand in the universal sign for _don’t worry about it_. “Yangyang -”

“I’ll pay,” their intruder says, giving up on the top buttons of the bar uniform.

“What with?” Shiyuan asks. “You got three grand cling-wrapped in your pants?”

The pet dog stops reaching for said pants, which lie sodden and limp over the edge of the armrest. “I don’t like owing favours,” he scowls.

“You won’t,” Li Wenhan says. Chunyang hands Shiyuan the plain envelope, unsealed and unmarked. He doesn’t insult them by taking the notes out to count. “You’ll be working off your debt here starting…” He looks at Shiyuan.

“Two days later should be enough time,” Shiyuan says. He stands, bag in hand. “Assuming you don’t make him do anything strenuous.”

“You wound me, good doctor,” Li Wenhan chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder. “Would I do something like that?” He smiles wanly in return, remembering Jia Yi on their second meeting. Broken 7th ribs and bruised jaw, three days after their first meeting.

“No,” Shiyuan agrees, stepping out the back door, raindrops drumming steadily on his black umbrella. “I suppose you know better than that now.”

-

Now that the doctor’s gone - the business at hand. Wenhan takes another drink from his bottle of mineral water. Taking care of your throat is important, especially if you’re up in the next twenty minutes as the bar singer. “So,” he begins, capping the bottle with a twist. “I can’t keep calling my staff ‘You’ or ‘Wolf boy’.”

 _Siberian Tiger_ ’s newest employee looks up from where he had been shaking the water out of his old Nokia. “I’m not calling you Boss either.”

“Touché,” Wenhan smiles. “Wenhan. But Boss is right, you know.”

His not-underling glances to where the storm continues its song, rain pattering an unsteady rhythm on the windows. “Hanyu,” he says when he turns back, expression guarded.

“Creative,” Wenhan says dryly. Well. Can’t blame a guy for having secrets. Although maybe he should have used another name as well… No, no point. He throws the key at Hanyu’s face, satisfied when he catches it on reflex with his uninjured arm.

Hanyu looks at the key in his hand as if he’s confused as to what it’s supposed to be. “227?”

“Second floor. We’re opening soon, and having a man bleeding out in the front room just isn’t good for business,” Wenhan says, one arm around Hanyu’s waist as he pulls him up. The other person is as light as he expected… but those abs are another story.

He brushes a hand across them again nonchalantly. Hanyu frowns and seems to curl in on himself a little more, but doesn’t shy away from using Wenhan’s shoulders like a crutch. “Don’t do that.”

“We'll talk about your job another time,” Wenhan says instead of apologising for doing something he certainly plans to do again. They make their way up the narrow stairs, Hanyu muttering curses under his breath when Wenhan pivots him into the railing.

“Sorry!” Wenhan pipes. “My first time taking care of someone who's been shot in the leg, after all.”

 _You're sure?_ Chunyang’s eyes had asked when he'd gone in search of the spare keys to his old room. _You don't know if he's clean._

He pats Chunyang on the head when they reach the door to 227. _Trust me._

Then Wenhan turns to Hanyu. “Meds,” he says, tucking the painkillers into the front pocket of Hanyu's new uniform.

Hanyu slaps his fingers away. “Thanks.”

 _Interesting,_ Wenhan thinks, leaning against the banner of the stairs as he watches Hanyu hobble determinedly into the room on his own. _Very interesting._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is his (GD's?) tattoo. But adapted for my purposes.
> 
> *东北虎 (wenhan's "codename" irl) can mean Siberian Tiger, or just Northeastern Tiger (he likes to use a Northeastern dialect)  
> **hanyu's "YU" character is 宇 (yu3) from 宇宙 (universe), but he looked at the rain 雨 (also yu3) when he said it, so wenhan thought he was using an alias/fake name. Also I mean he introduced himself as "wenhan" right before this so it does kind of sound like hanyu's just coming up with a random name (han and yu)
> 
> Will change the warnings etc if/when the violence goes up, but for now - there isn't much to tag imo. Nothing a blockbuster wouldn't have, at least.
> 
> As always, love comments! And happy birthday xia hanyu!


End file.
